


Of Life and Death and Flowers

by imjusttrashignoreme



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Clay | Dream Kills TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, More Hurt Than Comfort, No One Is Okay, Suicidal Thoughts, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, ghostinnit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29826210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imjusttrashignoreme/pseuds/imjusttrashignoreme
Summary: Life was an unfair game, one where everyone was destined to lose. Not that life owed you fairness, but the injustice of death leaves a bitter taste behind. At the end of the day, there is no happy ending for any soul, for they all end up in the same place eventually.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Of Life and Death and Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Ranboo killed it yesterday but the flowers KILLED ME

Life was an unfair game, one where everyone was destined to lose. Not that life owed you fairness, but the injustice of death leaves a bitter taste behind. At the end of the day, there is no happy ending for any soul, for they all end up in the same place eventually.

But some souls do not accept the hand life and death dealt them, and instead throw out the cards. They decide to play against the rules and make up their own, although cheating never goes unpunished.

Life has little care for the souls who have lost themselves in their own grief, it just lets them be, because that, never resting, always awake as one of the dead amongst the living, is worse for them and easier for life, than trying to force them to sleep.

They are like children throwing a tantrum and both life and death have better things to do than play with those who never listened to the rules in the first place.

Leaving these souls to their fate may doom them but that has never been anyone’s problem but their own. And that alone is punishment enough.

One family in particular was closely familiar with the rules of the game, and perhaps that is what broke them but there is no doubt they each had a fate linking them to life and death in the most morbid ways.

And it was the youngest child that suffered under it the most.

Tommy’s fate was sealed the day he was born to an immortal father who has danced so often and so closely with death, she had grown to like him too much to ever drag him with her.

His fate was sealed the day his brother signed his life away to a country only to go down with her when he killed her in cold blood.

His fate was sealed the day his oldest brother lost the true image of his sibling in favor of his sense of righteousness and grandeur and assigned him the role of a hero he never wanted.

The cards life decided to deal the boy had no chance of seeing him win but he did what he could and exaggerated every little success to proof to himself he was capable enough on his own to win, despite the poor hand.

And he was. He was a good player, stubborn as all hell, passionate as a wildfire, his heart blazing with spite so strong he withstood hardship after hardship, no matter the consequences. And he only improved once he found a friend who fought alongside him through thick and thin and any obstacle coming their way.

Tommy and Tubbo were an unbeatable duo, a force to be reckoned with.

Together, they were in control.

Until somebody took it away.

Dream was an interesting character, if only for his twisted view of the world he called his own. What had started out as a small conflict of wanting to preserve peace quickly spiraled into a war in which many lives and minds were lost. Including his own.

He knew he was the villain in everyone’s eyes, and he was more than willing to play the part as long as he could be Tommy’s villain. As long as he was the tormentor of the boy that brought about both the destruction and the solution to fix it, to the server, he didn’t care.

Tommy was his plaything and somewhere in the web of lies Dream had spun for himself and others, the thought took priority over his initial goal of peace.

And so, he made the child suffer in unimaginable ways, he took his cards and burned them, took his companion and turned them against each other, he took, and he took, and he took, until there was nothing left to take except one, small little thing.

Life was unfair and it didn’t owe you fairness, but by god, is it valuable.

It is the most valuable thing a person has and yet it is often treated with so little care, as the value rarely balances out the burden it puts on you. To some people, throwing it away and losing the game is the easiest thing to do in the world.

It can be a temptation so great, especially when no one helps you carry the burden, when all it takes is one little step off a steep edge to end it all.

The courage it takes to resist it, is imaginable to most people and yet, Tommyinnit had that courage.

Life was the one thing Tommy had left and he would not forfeit it to Dream or anyone else. He’d spite them all and not give anyone the satisfaction of taking this last thing that was purely his, away.

But it would not come without a price, as he was quick to learn. The world had changed without him, but he was not the same as when he left, either. He might have left that edge behind, still, sometimes when he closed his eyes, he could feel the wind whip around him, or the hot lava below, or a cold blade at his neck, or the force of and explosion next to him.

It often felt like death was taunting him, mocking him, but he knew, in truth death didn’t mind when he was put into her care.

And eventually, he was.

Technoblade had once told him to die like a hero.

Tommy thought he’d go out in a blaze of glory like Wilbur had.

He had thought about his death so many times, had mulled it over so much in his head, he could not imagine another way for him to go.

One of them would be right in the end. But they weren’t. Neither of them were right, because Tommy wasn’t a hero, or a villain, or the main character. He did not get to die in a poignant, poetic way that would make it all make sense in the end.

If he could remember what happened, maybe he would be mad about it. Maybe he would think how stupid it all is, how he should’ve ended his life back then, atop his tower, wrapped in his brother’s bloody coat.

Or maybe, he’d think, this is what he deserved. This is what he gets for putting himself in the spotlight so much. Dying, off screen for everyone, in the most menial way possible. Because it was all menial, wasn’t it?

But as it stood, Tommy remembered none of these things.

All he knew, all he saw, was a man dressed in orange prisoner garbs laughing and crying, maniacally and insane, holding the body of a young boy close to him with bloodied and bruised hands, quietly whispering to himself.

“stupid, why couldn’t you just shut up, why couldn’t you just be quiet, you’re always like this, you always make me do this, why do you always make me bad, god I hate you, I’ll show you what’s real, once they let me out, I’ll prove it to you, you dumb little-“

A soft meow in the corner stopped the mans muttering. He flinched at the sound and slowly turned around to face it. His face was distorted in shock and it horrified Tommy, how scared the man looked. It felt off to him, like his face shouldn’t look that way, so sad and upset and distraught. That’s not what it’s supposed to be.

Dream suddenly felt sick as what he saw was a cruel reflection of his latest crime. There, at the back end of the cell, on top of his lectern, floated the ghost of the same child he held in his arms.

Tommyinnit, grey and dead, stared at him with uneasy eyes, eyes without color, eyes that spilled a constant stream of tears, but the ghost didn’t seem to notice. He was an echo of what his alive self had been, wearing his dead brothers coat as though it was his own.

Tommy gripped the compass around his neck nervously. He averted his gaze from the man and instead focused on the cat next to him, transparent much like him. It looked at him and meowed a second time, as if it was just as confused as he was. He picked it up and held it gently, its purrs a small comfort, but a comfort none the less.

The man at the other end of the cell moved towards him so suddenly, it startled the boy so bad he flinched backwards through the wall, cat in hand, and everything turned dark.

He vaguely heard the call of an uncomfortably familiar voice, but he was already gone by the time he understood what it said.

“Well that sucks.”

Next time he awoke he was flying high above the ground, his cat resting on his shoulders, looking down at the group of people that had gathered below him.

An uncomfortable silence had settled amongst them as they stared at a boy with soft, brown hair, adorned by two small horns. He seemed unaware of it, focusing on the rails he stood on.

“I- I thought you’d be more, I don’t know, upset? That’s why I thought I should tell you. You two were friends, weren’t you?”

A creeper looking man in gold armor spoke up, looking shocked and confused. He seemed to be tearing at the seams, barely holding it together. Tommy felt sorry for him.

“No, we are friends, I just don’t believe it, to be honest. That he’s,” the boy paused for a second to kill a zombie, “that he’s gone. He probably isn’t, you know.”

Every word out of his mouth unsettled Tommy more and more. He didn’t think he liked the easiness he spoke with.

“I-“ The creeper hybrid must’ve been in the same boat as him, as he retreated into the black building behind him without saying anything.

This left the three other people alone. One of them was grinning like crazy, barely able to contain himself. He quickly fled the scene, saying something about celebrating the good news.

The other two, the goat boy and a taller one, who almost looked like an enderman, stood in silence for a while.

“Welp! That was something!”

The goat boy’s casual attitude persisted as he too made his way to leave, waving to the other one to come along, although he was more hesitant to.

Tommy decided to follow behind the pair. He wasn’t surprised they hadn’t noticed him, they were too busy laughing and joking. Many of them he didn’t understand, confused about what they meant with “its probably a security stunt” or being “married” and many other things.

It hurt him, to a degree. But seeing them happy also made him happy, somehow. It was a relief.

When they had arrived at the church, the goat boy started calling out for primes, and this time Tommy actually knew what they were. He remembered Prime. Remembered a log, an apple and a bell. Remembered yelling and explosions.

The sudden vision caused him to recoil and he grabbed his compass for comfort. His cat started purring again to calm him down, feeling her owner’s restlessness.

Tommy petted her and returned to looking at the Compass. He didn’t know what it was for as he had just woken up with it. He turned it around and read the engraving on the other side.

“your Tubbo”

Tubbo?

The name gave him a pause. It felt familiar on his tongue , like he had said it a million times before, but couldn’t remember. He didn’t remember a lot of things, he realized. Actually, he remembered nothing.

Once he returned from his own thoughts, he noticed that the two boys had already left. Oh well. He showed no signs of passing out, however, so he decided to go search for them.

Instead, he found the same man as before, now a lot less happy, staring at a large, red building.

“I thought winning would be different.”

Jack Manifold felt incredibly tired. Exhaustion sunk deep into his every bone. Winning was supposed to make him happy. He was supposed to feel vindicated, now that his arch nemesis was gone for good.

But he didn’t. He felt so very empty. No fulfilment, no success. Just, nothing.

What was it all for then?

He literally crawled out of hell to take revenge. He had sacrificed his humanity, just to pay Tommy back for everything he took from him. He had given so much of himself for this one singular purpose, but it was all for nothing.

All of it, useless, meaningless.

It made Jack wonder if anything he had ever done even mattered. If he mattered.

Tommy stared at the man. His cat had landed down on the path and walked towards him, and he followed.

The mans back was turned to him as he crouched in front of the building, as he held himself, eyes closed and crying.

The cat nestled against Jacks leg while Tommy rested his hand on his shoulder, hoping to give at least a small degree of comfort.

Jack vaguely felt a presence behind him and jumped up, and turned around, but there was nothing. The presence was gone, and he went inside his hotel to rest.

Vanishing randomly was really annoying, Tommy concluded. He was never given enough time to properly look around or even talk to the people he saw. And he saw a lot of them. None of them ever saw him though.

He’d watch them, watch them cry and scream and mourn, mourn for what, he didn’t know. He’d ask if he could.

But he knew he didn’t like it. He hated seeing all these people so sad, they weren’t supposed to be. It made him cry. He cried with them and he cried for them, and he wished they’d stop so maybe he could stop too.

He saw the same Creeper hybrid from before, vigorously checking the dark halls and corridors of his prison, paranoid and guilt ridden, but determined to find whoever was responsible for the security breach.

He saw a gentle sheep woman drowning in her regrets and feelings of failure, only to get back up and continue to fight against those who still plan to harm her home.

He saw a Queen swearing on their crown to never let anything like this happen in his kingdom again, fully knowing the part they played in the sequence of events themselves.

He saw them all and so, so many more.

Everyone was grieving something, himself included, but at least Tommy had his cat, they all were alone. They let each other suffer on their own despite there being so many of them. It didn’t make any sense to him.

He wished he could do something to help, but dead people don’t get to interact with the living.

And he was dead. He realized this not too long ago, but he didn’t care too much, if he was honest. He couldn’t remember being alive, so it didn’t make a difference.

Time in between blackouts liked to blur together. Tommy couldn’t tell if it’s been a day or a week or just mere minutes between them, but time did pass, however scuffed it may be. He got used to it.

That being said, it was still rather disorienting every time. So, forgive him for being confused at seeing the tall boy from before plant flowers in front of a dirt shack.

When he was done, he took out a single flower with a different color and shape to all the ones he’d been planting. He held it out and let it fall to the ground.

“There’s no one there to pick it up.”

Ranboo was shaking, he knew he was, but he had to hold the tears at bay before they could burn him. The Allium sat lonely on the dirt path and it pained him to see it, but it was a last goodbye, and Tommy deserved that much at least.

Tommy deserved so much more, but he couldn’t give him any more than that.

He turned to leave but only got a few steps ahead when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“It’s a bit rude, leaving flowers on the ground like this, innit?”

Disbelieve painted Ranboo’s features, his breath caught in his throat, not quite sure if what he was seeing was real.

“Yeah, yeah I suppose it is.”

His voice was shaking, unsteady words leaving his mouth carefully, afraid the ghost before him would disappear if he was any harsher. Not that he could be.

But Tommy was right there, maybe not in the flesh, but a part of him at least. He looked like he had during exile, Ranboo could remember it vividly, dull eyes, malnourished body, ripped clothes, completed by the coat and compass everyone knew all too well.

Only this time he was translucent, holding onto the Allium Ranboo had dropped before. A ghostly cat sat beside him.

Tommy flew next to him and turned so they both looked at the dirt shack and the flowers he had just planted.

“What are you leaving these for anyway?”

Tommy sounded like he didn’t know it was his own house they were looking at. Ranboo wondered how much of Tommy was left in him.

“A… a friend of mine left recently. I thought he might like the flowers. I hope it makes him happy.”

Ranboo couldn’t help but snort at himself. “Although, he never really liked flowers. Used to cuss me out on it, too.”

“He left? Just like that?” the ghost furrowed his brows, “Is he coming back?”

Ranboo pulled a sad smile.

“No I… I don’t think so.”

“What a bitch.”

He barked out a laugh but quickly slapped his hand over his mouth. He felt tears sting in his eyes and finally one of them escaped, burned his skin beneath it, but he ignored it.

“Yeah” his voice broke “I guess you could say that.”

“You alright there, man?”

Tommy asked, confused, while Ranboo desperately tried to wipe away the tears.

“Uhm, No. Tears kinda hurt me.”

The ghost looked at Ranboo, then at the flower in his hand and back. Before he knew what was happening the Allium had multiplied to a bouquet of them. He plucked one out of the pile and held it out to the hybrid when he looked back up.

“Here, have a flower.”

Ranboo stared at him blankly, starstruck, but accepted the flower.

“Why?”

“You said the flowers might make your friend happy. Now I’m not one for flowers, because I’m simply that cool, but you seem to be all about them. So there, maybe they will help you feel better.”

Ranboo holds onto the flower and tries to stop crying, he really does. Instead, the exhaustion finally catches up with him and his knees buckle under his weight.

Tommy noticed the others struggle to keep standing and points towards the nearby bench.

“Let’s go over there. You look like you need to sit down.”

Once seated, Ranboo was on the constant verge of tears, much like the ghost next to him, but he managed to keep it together for now. The ghost cat curled up on his lap.

Tommy moved to put in one of his disks into the jukebox, almost on autopilot. He didn’t even know where the disk came from, but chirp seemed to be an appropriate sound to play. It comforted him.

“So, that friend of yours…”

“Yeah?”

“Why did he leave? Lots of people must’ve liked him if you came here just to leave him flowers.”

Ranboo’s throat constricted. His chest felt tight. He might start crying again.

“He… they weren’t really… People didn’t really like him too much.”

“oh”

“yeah”

A silence stretched between them. Not uncomfortably, but it made Ranboo uneasy.

“I don’t think he meant to leave” he said, “Pretty sure it was an accident.”

“’s still a bit fucked though, right?”

Ranboo hummed in response.

“Why did you bring him flowers?”

“Huh?”

Now it was Tommy’s turn to have an unsteady voice. He seemed unsure about asking, but Ranboo had decided to answer his questions, no matter how much it hurt both of them. He owed him that much.

“If no one liked the guy, why bother?”

“Because he was my friend” He smiled at the ghost. It was a sad one, but it was a smile. “Granted we didn’t really spend much time together but… he helped me a lot. He protected me. But I couldn’t- I couldn’t do the same for him. I didn’t help him when he needed me to. I failed him. I was too scared.”

“You really don’t have a backbone, do you?”

The question surprised him, but he could only stare at the flower in his hands, bitterly.

“I don’t.”

And the tears spilled once more.

“Did he leave anything behind?”

Ranboo immediately thought of Tubbo. Thought of how he was still denying what had happened, knowing he might die if he ever admits it to himself.

“He did.”

“Well, just take care of that then. Even if your friend doesn’t see it anymore, you still show that you give a shit. Caring, not abandoning anyone or anything, it might make the difference in the end. Make it up to him in that way.”

Does death just automatically make you wise? Ghostbur used to say things like this too.

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am, I’m always right!”

They both burst out in uncontrollable, genuine laughter. It lifted the air and made them feel so much lighter.

“What’s your name anyway?” Tommy asked.

“Ranboo. What about you?”

“I-“ the ghost faltered. “I don’t know, actually. Don’t think I have a name.”

Ranboo remained silent.

They keep listening to the disk, but as the melody fades out, so does Tommy.

“Looks like I have to go.”

Ranboo panics for a second as he sees Tommy fade away little by little.

“Will you be back?” Will you see Tubbo?

“Dunno.” He answers, casually. “I don’t get to control it”

Ranboo smiled at him, one more time, and it was genuine.

“Alright. Goodbye Tommy.”

“Don’t think that’s me, enderboy, but whatever. See you around!”

And in the next moment he was gone.

Ranboo was left to sit in silence, only accompanied but the noises of the night, holding onto the Allium and thinking, maybe Tommy liked them after all. And that was enough, for now.

Life was never fair and death leaves behind a bitter taste. There are no winners in the end, only those who accept defeat and those who cheat their way out of it.

Tommy was never going to go quietly; he was always going to resist and rebel. Its what he does, what he’s known for.

No matter how his death would’ve played out, in no scenario would he let her take him easily.

He was Wilbur’s brother at the end of the day, and that one hadn’t gone willingly either.

As long as there were still things for him to do and people to look over and protect, his business would never be finished.

Tommyinnit cared, he had attachments, and even in death they kept him strong. Dream would always be wrong in that regard.

Not that it mattered. As far as Tommy was concerned, the green boy could suck it.

**Author's Note:**

> SUCK IT GREEEEEEENNNN BOOOOOOIIIIIIIIIIIII  
> wanted to end it on a semi positive note. c!Dream is a bitch and i hope he gets what's coming to him.


End file.
